


Of Trust, and Air, and Murder Mysteries

by eris_kyrall (kereia)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms, Thor (2011)
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/pseuds/eris_kyrall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha's quiet night off is interrupted by Loki's request to explain a puzzling detail in one of the murder mysteries he likes to read. Before long, Natasha finds herself far more invested in a conversation about breathplay than she'd planned for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Trust, and Air, and Murder Mysteries

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, and for the sake of my sanity AU for the Avengers, because while I loved the prompt, between Loki's body count and the "m...... q..." comment, I have issues with his character arc.
> 
> +++ +++ +++
> 
> I know the term "cunt" is a trigger for some people, so please consider this your warning. 
> 
> While I absolutely hate the term when used as an insult, I love the simplistic bluntness of it as an alternative to "vagina" (which is too medical for smut) and "pussy," which to my non-native-english-speaking ears just sounds adorably hilarious. It's used strictly as a term for the body part, and not as an insult here.
> 
> +++ +++ +++
> 
> Written for the following prompt at avengerkink:
> 
> Loki/Natasha, breathplay/choking, against-the-wall!sex or fingering
> 
> Yes give me hot PWP with breathplay/choking. No props/toys, just good ol' fashioned hand-on-  
> throat action. Taking her to the very edge and then letting off right before she passes out; vision going black and red and her heart racing and the oxygen rush when he gives her a moment to gasp and recover. And then the orgasms, my god, the orgasms.
> 
> This happens while they're fucking up against a wall with Natasha's legs wrapped around his waist (or I'd even be happy with just some good vigorous fingering with her pressed against the wall or Loki holding her against him from behind). And I can picture him being really sweet & sensual (...in a Loki kind of way) the whole time as though this is just vanilla sex.
> 
> consensual plz
> 
> \+ bareback  
> ++ dirty talk (from both of them)  
> +++ lots of kissing
> 
>  
> 
> +++ +++ +++

“Is it common among humans to accidentally kill their sexual partners during intercourse?” Loki asked with genuine curiosity. “I mean, does it happen very often?”

It was with just these two questions that Natasha's quiet evening took a sharp turn into a direction she had not anticipated.

As far as the operational aspects of the Avenger Initiative were concerned, it was a quiet night in the dead of winter, giving the team a chance to take some time off, unwind, and meet with friends and family. Natasha had been looking forward to a leisurely evening on the sofa of one of the smaller common rooms that was situated off the beaten path on the residential floors of the tower.

A cozy blanket, a never-ending supply of hot chocolate and a good book while the harsh winds of winter buffeted the glass of the panorama windows, and snow tumbled in bold swirls and strokes through the air, gently glowing with the reflected lights from the streets below – the very definition of a perfect evening.

Loki wandering into the room after a couple of hours had not bothered her. It had not been the first time that he'd sought her company, and as he seemed to read her moods well enough to know when she appreciated conversation and when she preferred silence, his entrance had barely made her raise her gaze from the pages of her novel.

Curled up on the couch with the book resting in her hands atop the blanket which covered her knees, she'd extended two fingers from where they'd curled around the hardcover in an implied greeting.

A cursory glance had revealed an open, dog-eared paperback in his hands as he'd walked over to her. With the usual mild irritation, Natasha had taken note that he'd been dressed in what passed as his _comfortable_ clothes, which entailed the removal of all pieces of metal and most pieces of leather from his ceremonial garb, but not the exchange of his sinfully tight pants and soft leather boots to something a little less distracting.

Stifling a sigh, she had resolutely ignored the low pull in her abdomen that had become a common annoyance whenever Thor's little brother was close and had turned her eyes back to the pages of her book. She'd felt the cushions sag as he'd settled quietly down next to her, and the following two hours had been spent in amiable silence.

The first indication that something was wrong had been a short, sharp sound of exhalation, as if someone was trying not to scoff out loud. Natasha had blinked and looked up, her gaze coming to rest on Loki's profile, taking in the creased forehead and lowered brows as his gaze had rapidly skimmed over the last few pages of his novel. As he'd neared the end, his expression had turned from derision to bafflement, which, in turn, had roused Natasha's curiosity.

Ever since Dr. Foster's assistant had introduced Loki to the world of murder mysteries, the Avengers had found themselves on the receiving end of more lectures about plot holes than they cared to remember.

Loki loved puzzles. It was as simple as that. In the little spare time they had, he dove into these stories trying to figure out who the murderer was before the inevitable reveal near the end, and if he had been successful, he would smirk and gloat in praise of his own cleverness for about two seconds before conceding that it had hardly been a challenge after all, and the next book would already be in his hands.

But god help anyone who was in his immediate vicinity if his deductions had been wrong, and another character turned out to be the villain of the piece. He would rant for hours, taking apart the plot, the clues, the character's motivations, convinced that the author's skills were pedestrian at best, and that, of course, he, Loki, could have done a much better job, than this tragic waste of a perfectly good storyline.

Having reached the final page, Loki had shut the book, had splayed his long fingers around the cover, and had stared fixedly out of the window. At first glance, Natasha had braced herself for another one of his outbursts, but as his demeanor had begun to reflected confusion more than disdain, she'd wondered with which kind of puzzle the story had presented him. Her own book momentarily forgotten, she'd settled her shoulder against the back of the couch and had continued to watch him as he'd absentmindedly began to turn the book in his hands.

A long moment had passed. Then, he'd finally turned to her.

“May I ask a question?” he'd queried, oddly hesitant.

Expecting another debate on time-lines and structural inconsistencies, she'd nodded. “You may.”

Which had been been the moment he'd thrown her this particularly interesting curve ball.

Taking a moment to hide her surprise, Natasha closed her book with an audible snap and placed it carefully on the coffee table.

“It's not common,” she answered after a moment's deliberation, “but it can happen. To determine if it is plausible within _these_ circumstance,” she pointed at the novel in his hands, “I need more information.”

Loki turned toward her, pulling one leg underneath himself. “In this story a woman accidentally strangles her lover with a belt. She claims to have been too...” and here Natasha could practically hear the quotation marks settle around the term for emphasis “...'preoccupied' with her own orgasm to notice that he'd lost consciousness. Do humans really have so little self-control? Is this at all a likely scenario?” he asked.

“While not one-hundred-percent-absolutely-completely-and-utterly impossible, it is not very likely, no.”

“But it _is_ possible?” he insisted.

Natasha shrugged and wondered how Clint would react when she told him of this conversation tomorrow. The idea that she'd be discussing the risk-awareness of consensual kinks with Loki, Asgardian God of Mischief and biological Frost Giant, was not something she would have considered to be at all likely to happen. She could just see Clint laughing his ass off at the very idea of it.

Nevertheless, since they were on the subject, she decided it was best to be blunt. “If drugs or alcohol are in play, yes. Also, if you can't trust your partner, and he or she gets off on fucking you while you're unconscious,” she frowned in obvious distaste, “then you're definitely in trouble. Another factor can be medical issues, but to be perfectly honest, I think this is just a typical case of an author choosing a sexual kink for it's 'fascinating perversity' without doing any research on the matter.”

“I see. Another case of poor plotting then,” Loki said with disgust and carelessly flung the book onto the wooden coffee table.

“It's a third rate murder mystery. What did you expect?” Natasha raised her cup of hot chocolate to her lips and regarded him over the rim, her expression betraying equal parts exasperation and amusement.

Loki rose to his feet in obvious agitation, grabbed the book and started pacing the length of the room. “I expect it to make sense. How is one to determine who the murderer is, when both motive and circumstance are merely arbitrary, and half a dozen suspects slink around corners, have partially overheard conversations which could be interpreted any which way, and never tell the truth about their alibis?”

Natasha hid her smile behind the raised cup. “Most people find the guesswork entertaining,” she replied, her gaze following him around the room, sweeping from his frowning face down his lean body to appreciate the sight of long legs and a perfectly rounded backside that was very emphatically _not_ hidden from view by his cape, coat or tunic right now.

* _Speaking of kinks_ ,* Natasha thought and bit down on her lower lip.

“Well, _I_ just find it intensely frustrating,” he said. Looking at her, he stopped suddenly, and Natasha could have sworn his gaze lingered on her mouth a little longer than it should have, before he turned his attention back to the book in his hands, only to let it drop onto the table a second later.

Releasing her lips from the hold of her teeth, Natasha regarded him closely.

He stood motionless for a moment, as if lost in thought, then his gaze flicked towards her again, and he cleared his throat. “I am curious,” he began. “This... kink? I believe that was the word you used.”

Natasha nodded. “Breathplay,” she elaborated.

His face all curiosity, he sat back down subtly keeping a little more distance between them than before, and Natasha had the distinct impression that he did not mean to crowd her in case the subject matter should make her uncomfortable. Which was not only considerate but adorable, even though she'd never admit it. Not even to Clint.

“What exactly is the appeal?”

Natasha stifled a groan in the back of her throat. It took all her years of training and experience to maintain a disinterested expression when she considered the answer to his question. Within seconds one thought led to another, and the result was a slow wave of heat unfurling in her abdomen, while an image of Loki rose in her mind, all lean muscles and pale skin, his long, elegant fingers wrapping around her throat as his cock pounded into her. Suddenly, she felt more than a little light-headed.

* _Stay calm. Stay rational_ ,* she told herself. * _Unemotional bullet points. That's what he wants, and that's what you're going to give him. Nothing more._ *

However sensible this plan might have been in theory, it's execution was nearly impossible. It had been far too long since she'd had the opportunity to indulge this particular kink. Clint had been the only one she'd trusted to do this to her, and the nature of her job had prevented her from getting close enough to anyone else since her and Clint's agreement that they worked better as friends.

Taking a tight hold of her self-control, Natasha forced her voice into a neutral cadence. “As with any kink, the appeal is that it increases your pleasure. In this case, there's a sort of sensory overload that comes from not being in control – from the tightness in your chest, when the muscles in your entire body are already straining more and more with every thr...” she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, “...second,” she finished, all too aware of Loki's keen focus as his bottomless eyes regarded her.

* _Have they always been this green?_ * she wondered distractedly, then admonished herself. * _Fuck, it's definitely been too long_.*

It became a matter of pride not to hide from his gaze by averting her eyes, and she continued. “The dichotomy between this dull, ever increasing pressure on one hand and the sharper, almost electric pleasure on the other hand. And then the release, the oxygen rush, when you come,” she inhaled deeply and, unable to pretend indifference any longer, shifted her legs and pressed her thighs together, her body yearning for just a little bit of friction. “It's incredible.”

The ghost of a smile touched his face. “If I'm not to forward, may I infer from your description that this particular kink is something you enjoy?”

There was no point in denying it. She nodded. “It is.”

“I would not have thought...” he hesitated.

“What?”

Pursing his lips, he stared into the empty space above her shoulder as he searched for the right words to wrap around his thoughts. Natasha studied his face. She wondered what it would feel like to run her tongue over the sharp curve of his cheekbones, and if his lips and hands would be cold against her heated skin on account of his ancestry. Had they ever touched before? It seemed impossible that they had not, but she couldn't recall.

“You do not strike me as someone who would leave herself vulnerable to another person by choice,” he finally said, and Natasha struggled to banish thoughts of his hands between her legs, his fingers delving deep inside of her – a slow torturous rhythm that would make her moan and scream and beg.

She suppressed a shiver and forced herself to concentrate, but her gaze was riveted to his hand where it rested so close to her on the back of the sofa.

“I don't,” she admitted, absurdly proud that her voice sounded only a little bit breathy. “ Breathplay requires trust, maybe more than most other kinks. Usually, you'd agree on a safe word or signal, that lets your partner know when to stop doing something, but those have only a limited usefulness in this case.”

“So ideally...” he ventured.

“You find someone you trust to stop chocking you just before you pass out. Or if he's really skilled...” she broke off, wondering if she was tempting fire. There was no reason to go into more detail. Just because _she_ was having difficulty to keep this discussion on a theoretical level, didn't mean that she had to try and see if she could push _his_ buttons.

But the truth was, she really, _really_ wanted to know if he had any buttons that she could push.

She did not know if her thoughts were reflected on her face – considering the state in which she was it would not surprise her to learn that even her impenetrable poker face had abandoned her, but when she looked at him, his eyes seemed darker and his pupils wider, and when she bit her lip in an uncharacteristically blunt attempt to draw his gaze, his own lips parted, though he did not move an inch from his position on the couch.

Her voice husky, she continued. “Well, if he's really skilled, he can make you hover on the edge forever.” She pulled her knees closer to her body and rested her hands in her lap, the lower one pressing down into the apex of her thighs. “Easing up just a little to let you draw breath, pushing you up to that precipice with every thrust of his body, then pressing down again, palm against your throat when you get too close, drawing it out, holding you _right there_ until you can't take it anymore – timing it perfectly to make you crash and burn at the same time.”

Natasha could feel the wetness between her legs drenching her underwear. Desire flooded her, an ever expanding wave that filled her body from head to toe. She licked her lips. “There's nothing like it, Loki.” She deliberately let one of her thighs brush against the other, taking pleasure in the sensation of wet fabric against sensitive skin.

Her movement was subconsciously mirrored by him, and her gaze automatically fell from his face to his lap. Immediately, Loki crossed his legs in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of his arousal. “I'm so sorry.” he ground out, the strain of emotions for the first time evident on his face.

Heat slammed into her body, suddenly, violently, and her hands curled into fists to keep from pulling him closer and kissing him senseless.

While she had been aware of the fact that she'd been nursing a growing attraction to Thor's brother ever since the two of them had tumbled down from Asgard on Dr. Fosters first successful attempt to re-create the Einstein-Rosen-Bridge, it appeared that even she had underestimated how far she had suppressed her desire. Between covert assignments that took her away from the team for weeks, and Loki's mandatory visits to Asgard, where Odin demanded weekly reports from both of his sons as to how Loki's conditional release was working out until he'd served his penance for, among other things, sending the Destroyer to earth, she had never allowed herself to consider giving in to what she had classified as a passing fancy.

It caught her by surprise how much she wanted him.

As he scooted back on the couch, Natasha's eyes were drawn back to his face and the chagrined expression that had settled there. It all but confirmed her initial impression that he'd intentionally given her space when he'd first sat down, and damn it, if that did not turn her on even more.

“My apologies,” he said. “I assure you, I usually have more self-control than this.” He blushed. _Blushed!_ And Natasha almost moaned out loud. Then he moved to get up, and that was simply unacceptable.

“May I be blunt?” she asked, deciding to go for broke.

Quizzically, he raised an eyebrow, but sat back down. “Of course.”

With her decision made, she felt a little bit more in control. “I want you,” she said simply, her voice low and steady.

“I have for quite some time now, but if you're getting up because you're not interested, that's fine, and I'll never loose another word about this. But if you're only getting up because you think the fact that you're aroused is making me uncomfortable, then you can stay right were you are, because I've been sitting here for the past half hour fantasizing about how you taste...” She slowly uncurled from her sitting position and moved closer. Her gaze swept over his face, looking for a sign that he still wanted to leave, but he remained perfectly still, as if worried she would stop talking if he moved.

“...how your skin would feel beneath my hands...” She slowly reached out to touch his cheek and felt a mixture of relief and renewed desire when he subtly leaned into her touch. His gaze never left her face as her fingertips traced his cheekbones to the top of his ears, along the lobe to the pulse point at the side of his neck. “...how you would feel inside of me,” she breathed, leaning in.

His response was a kiss that bent her backwards. Open-mouthed and deliciously wet, those kisses fueled her desire and filled her with a wanton, agonizing need for more. He caught her upper lip between his own and pulled, gently, slowly, only to release her and draw back in for one more taste of her.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, while the other curved around her waist to the small of her back to draw her flush against him. Untangling her legs from her blanket, Natasha wrapped them around his body and reveled in the warmth that seeped through his clothes. *Not cold after all,* was the last rational thought that flitted through her mind before he brushed his tongue along the inside of her bottom lip and robbed her senses.

With a low moan, she pushed one hand into his hair and wrapped the other around his shoulder pressing her body against his hard enough to feel his erection in the cradle of her thighs. She took control of the kiss, her tongue playfully teasing his, and he surrendered willingly, both of his palms stroking down the length of her back, from her shoulder blades to the hem of her shirt. Her body on fire, she rolled her hips against his, desperately seeking friction. The move drew a sharp intake of breath from his mouth. He slipped his fingertips beneath her shirt, and suddenly Natasha felt nothing but air and his hands on her upper body, her clothes vanished by his magic.

She drew back in surprise, her palms flat against his chest. She was breathing hard as she glanced down at herself, then answered his smirk with a cocked eyebrow. “That's a very handy trick,” she conceded.

Leaning in, he brushed his lips against the edge of her jaw. “I have more impressing tricks in my repertoire,” he said, his voice a low whisper against her skin. His tongue flicked against the pulse point below her ear.

“I will hold you to that,” she panted and grabbed his shirt trying to pull it off, but it, too, vanished before she could complete the motion. Loki's soft laugh washed over her skin as his mouth trailed feathery kisses along the line of her collarbone. His hand briefly tangled in her hair again before he cupped her cheek, then trailed lower, fingers splayed against the side of her neck.

“Would you allow me to do this to you?” he asked quietly, and his words made her catch her breath. His teeth gently nipped her skin before he raised his face to look at her. “Do you want me to?” he asked again. “Do you want me to fuck you senseless, while I strangle you?” He brushed the pad of his thumb along her throat, and Natasha shivered with anticipation. Her fingernails pressed into his back hard enough to leave marks as she let her head fall back, exposing her throat to him.

“Do you trust me enough?” he asked, his thumb lightly pressing against the hollow of her throat. “Do you trust me to hold you on that edge without letting you fall? Because I want you just as much as you want me. I want to bury myself inside you over and over again, close my hands around your throat and take you until you couldn't breath even if you tried – until you shatter.” His mouth hovered above hers as he waited for her answer. “You will not come to any harm. I give you my word.”

It was exactly what she wanted. This. And more.

She knew that she trusted him enough for this. Had been sure of it when he'd sat back down on the sofa.

Her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she claimed his mouth and pushed him backwards. Loki fell easily into the cushions, his hands holding her steady while she straddled him. She entangled her tongue with his in a slow, sensual dance that suffused her with an ever growing heat, leaving her breathless and wanting when she came up for air.

“I do,” she said. “Fuck. You have no idea how much I want this.” Pulling one of his hands away from her waist, she sat up, noting how his eyes took in the sight of her. The naked desire on his face ignited sparks low in her body, and though she would not have thought it possible to become even more flushed and trembling with need for him, she was proven wrong. Feverishly, she cast her gaze about the room and picked up an egg-sized piece of rock from an ornamental bowl on the table. “Promise me, that when I drop this,” she showed him the stone, “that you will stop.”

He gave her a long look then nodded and brushed an errand strand of hair out of her face. “You have my word.” His fingertips trailed a sensuous path across her skin. He cupped her breast, his thumb circling the tight nipple while he rose to draw her into a short and tender kiss. “You have nothing to fear from me, Natasha.”

The laugh tumbled unbidden from her lips, free and wild and joyous. “Fear is really not what's on my mind right now.” She ground down on him, her hips rolling provocatively against his cock, the friction never quite enough. Her underwear was drenched by now, and when it suddenly vanished along with the rest of her clothes, she moaned out loud, rubbing her cunt against the hard length of his cock, coating him in her wetness.

Loki's attention had wandered to her breasts. He suckled the sensitive nubs and gently massaged the underside with his hands while his hips rolled up into hers. Natasha gasped and reached for his cock to guide him inside of her, secure in the knowledge that the array of medical tests to which SHIELD subjected them four times a year allowed them to forgo the use of condoms if they so wished.

But, without warning, he grabbed her and rose to his feet. “Hold on,” he whispered in her ear, and Natasha could only wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, before she found herself backed against the wall.

Loki kissed her hard, his tongue brushing in long, deep strokes against her own as he grabbed her thighs. Then he broke the kiss and pushed her up, settling her legs over his shoulder and stepped back until she fell with her back against the wall, the space her body bridged to great for her to curl up and tangle her hands in his hair.

“Hold still,” he commanded, and, with little to hold on to, she obeyed. As he cupped her ass with both of his hands, he effectively settled the majority of her weight there, a feat only possible because of his alien strength.

Natasha shivered when she felt his breath whispers over the wetness between her legs. When Loki's tongue brushed hard along the length of her opening to the very edge of her clit, she braced her shoulders against the wall, a strangled gasp tearing from her throat. “Fuck.” she hissed, her hands clenching into fists as he delved into her, licking her inside and out, his lips closing over the small bundle of nerves, suckling her, teasing her, stealing her breath, her vision, and any remaining shred of control.

His tongue brushed hard and wet over her again and again, driving her higher with each stroke. Lowering her a fraction, he pushed two fingers deep into her body, making her cry out with need and pleasure. The muscles in her legs and abdomen clenched, she moaned, her eyes closed and her mind drowning in sensations.

“Deeper,” she panted encouragingly – pleadingly. “I want to feel you deeper. I need to...” a hoarse moan fell from her lips; she was so close.

And then he stopped, drawing back and kissing the inside of her thigh. “Patience,” he hummed, but Natasha was beyond the very concept of the term.

With a noise of protest, she used all her training and agility to push herself off the wall, bracing her free hand on his head as she swung her legs off his shoulder. She had planned to flip him to the ground as soon as she'd regained her footing, but he caught her easily as she slid down his body. His fingers wrapped around her thighs as he walked back into her, pushing her back against the wall.

Their eyes locked, and seeing her own need reflected on his face stopped any protest in her throat. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his shoulder-length hair and pulled him down for a wet, heated kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue and bucked against him, needing him desperately inside of her.

Swallowing his moan, she pushed one hand between their bodies and wrapped it around his cock. She stroked him slowly, once, twice, her thumb spreading the small drops of moisture over the foreskin in circular motions. Loki's fingers dug into her thighs as he repositioned her against him, and then his hand joined hers guiding him to her core, the head of his cock rubbing exquisitely against the slickness of her cunt, penetrating only deep enough to push her open.

Her breathing labored, Natasha waited until he'd taken hold of her thighs again, and with a sure, hard thrust he buried himself inside of her. It was almost too much to finally have him fill her up like this, stretching her to the brim, every stroke strengthening the dull throbbing beat of her pulse between her legs. Liquid fire pooled inside her, pushing her back up to that elusive cliff top below which waited her release.

Moaning with every precious breath, she tightened her legs around his waist as he braced one hand against the wall and ran the other one from her thigh up the side of her body. Her fist clenching around the rock in her hand, she threw her head back as his thumb brushed against her throat again, growling low – a sound, half plea and half command.

His teeth nipping gently at her jaw line, he acquiesced, wrapped his hand around her neck and squeezed.

Natasha moaned, or tried to, but the sound died inside her throat. There was the instinctive struggle, the brief moment of panic, before she calmed, allowing herself to fall. Pressure slowly built inside her chest as her body was starved of oxygen. She relished that pressure, loved the contrast between the dull pain as her lungs constricted, and the sharp bolts of pleasure that raced through her body with every thrust of Loki's hips.

Her eyes found his as he regarded her carefully through heavy-lidded eyes, but she'd already been close to the edge by the time Loki had begun to fuck her properly, and she knew she wouldn't last long now. Each thrust of his body pushed her higher, and moments later, she was swept away by ecstasy, her body convulsing around his cock, her hands clawing at his back.

He released her immediately and buried his face in her shoulder as his hands settled on her thighs pulling her knees higher up his body. Gasping for breath, she held on as he fucked her through her orgasm, each stroke deeper than the last now that he'd changed the angle. Unable to fully come down, Natasha trembled, her body assaulted with a different mixture of pleasure and pain that was no less enticing.

“Is this deep enough for you?” he whispered into her ear as he closed off her throat again and began to truly pound her into the wall – hard and fast and merciless. For one moment, Natasha considered dropping the rock, but she found him watching her, a look of deep concentration on his face, his teeth gritted with the strain of keeping control, and she discarded the idea.

Muffled, chocking sounds tore through her body as he ground his pubic bone against her clit with every thrust. Barely able to hold on to him anymore, she felt him support her hips with one strong hand. Black spots began to cloud her vision, and she could hear nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat, echoing slower and slower within her head. Then, for one moment, the pressure ceased and she could draw breath again filling her lungs with precious air, before his hand constricted her throat once more. A small whimper escaped her in that moment, before she was swept away on an ever building wave of pleasure. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears, and her eyelids fluttered closed, and still Loki was driving his cock into her relentlessly.

And then it became too much to bare. Too much pleasure. Too much pain. She felt her muscles seize in one last effort to fight off unconsciousness, and suddenly the pressure was gone and she gulped air into her lungs as she crested that wave, the oxygen rush taking her higher than she'd thought possible, her mind tumbling, overloaded with sensations. Her arms had fallen limply to her side, and it was only Loki's strength that held her in place. Slowly, she became aware of the way he suddenly tensed in her embrace, his back arching his body into hers, before he sagged boneless against her. Caught between the wall and him, she gently stroked the nape of his neck as he spilled himself inside her.

Her throat felt raw, and though she did not trust herself to form complete sentences, Natasha pressed a tender kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raspy and low.

A muffled hum was the only response she got, and she smiled against his skin suddenly feeling a little bit giddy. Content to hang on to him until they'd both recovered enough to move, she mimicked his position and rested her head against his shoulder.

The rock tumbled out of her hand and fell to the floor.

Her breathing was almost back to normal by the time he raised his head and brushed his lips against her temple. He held her still while he slipped out of her, and Natasha bit her lip, mourning the loss of contact. Instinctively, she pressed her thighs together, her own sweat and wetness mingling with his cum running down her legs. A tiny jolt of pleasure raced through her, but the beginning soreness of over-stimulation already made itself know.

“Yep, it's really been too long,” she mused, before realizing that she'd said it out loud.

A mischievous expression on his face, Loki drew her back into his arms. “There are healing spells to take away soreness and fatigue...” his fingertips traced along the line of her neck, “...as well as bruises. Thor tells me his lover is very fond of them.”

“That explains a lot.” Natasha had often wondered how on earth Dr. Foster managed to divide her time evenly between lab work and sex with her lover, because her and Natasha's rooms were on the same floor, and Dr. Foster sure as hell did not spent a lot of time sleeping when she was at home.

“If you wish...”

Natasha shook her head. “No. It's sweet, but I prefer to feel this. All of this.” She pulled him into a slow, lazy kiss.

“I could do with a glass of water, though.” She moved to disentangle herself, but Loki had not only an impressive repertoire of magic tricks, but an imminently useful one as well, for he simple pulled a glass of water out of thin air. Taking a sip, Natasha noted that both of their clothes lay folded in two neat stacks on the sofa. She stifled a laugh. “Did you have them washed and pressed, too?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Alas, no.” One heartbeat later he was full dressed and sank to his knees in front of her, a wet towel in his hands. He gently ran the cloth up the inside of her thighs. “Are you sure you will be alright?” he asked, his gaze lingering on the bruises that must be visible on her skin before he met her eyes.

“Better than,” she answered, her hand lightly touching his cheek. “Thank you,” she said, because it was worth repeating.

With a smirk on his face Loki bowed and grasped her hand. He bestowed a lingering kiss onto her knuckles. “I believe the Midgardian expression is 'The pleasure was all mine,'” he intoned in a voice an octave deeper than his natural timbre and with a facetiously solemn expression on his face.

She laughed, which came out as a hoarse groan, and crouched down to catch his mouth in a parting kiss. “No, Loki. It most certainly wasn't.” She smiled lasciviously. “Though I can definitely see myself putting you in a position to make it true.”

And with this parting promise she stood, grabbed her clothes, wrapped her blanket around herself and sashayed sated and happy out of the room.

 

The End


End file.
